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#or losing track of when theyre supposed to turn and being surprised when the times comes
josecariohca · 4 months
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chokemeanakin · 3 years
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I dont know if you are taking requests but if you are, could you please write something where reader has trouble masturbating, every time she tries she just CANT, so anakin (theyre just friends but they always had lots of sexual tension) helps her out and does it for her so she cums for the first time. THANK YOU!!!
A Dream Come True - Anakin Skywalker x fem Reader (smut)
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Read it on ao3
Wc: 5.4k
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A low warmth is rising in your belly, pulled from the depths by your wandering fingers. They’re working against your clit, rubbing it side to side, faster and hard, trying so desperately to remain in that warm haze of pleasure you’ve spent so long building up. It feels good, but you need more. 
The many late nights spent with your girlfriends cross your mind, and how you would sit by idly during each one as they discussed their own personal affairs in the bedroom. You were the least experienced, but listened in awe as they told you the latest on what their partners have done to surprise them in bed. How they made them scream and shake, their eyes roll back into their head, and cum all over until they couldn’t take anymore.
You were too embarrassed to admit you’d never felt that way before. You thought you were broken.
Which is why you’re here, fingers glued to your hard nub, rubbing furiously to try and get yourself to feel something. You do feel something, but it’s not earth-shattering, leg-shaking, eye-rolling like your friends had described. Frustration fuels your movements as you attack your clit, holding your breath, forcing the warmth to build and build and build--
Nothing.
Your arm aches with the strain as you halt your movements, chest heaving when you allow yourself to breathe. Self-pity outweighs your disappointment as the subtle warmth dissipates, any pleasure that you had given yourself slipping away. 
Broken, a small voice whispers inside your head. There’s something wrong with you.
What other reasoning could there be to explain why you can’t feel good? 
Maybe, you argue, there needs to be something inside. That was always a big topic of discussion with your friends, how they “loved being filled.” Gathering your wits, you move your finger down, exploring your folds until you find your opening. Squeezing your eyes shut, you push a finger in, wincing at the sudden intrusion. 
It stings more than anything, but you’re desperate so you decide to give it a chance. You’ve tried this before, and it’s never felt like anything more than a finger inside of you-- which is exactly what it is. And now, this situation proves to be the same. You feel around, hoping to find that spot everyone raves about, but your fingers are too short and the angle is weird. You push your finger in and out like how you think you’re supposed to, and it feels like nothing.
Maybe you need two?
You let another finger join the one that’s already inside, struggling to get it in. 
Ow, you wince as your body rejects the intrusion. Your heartbeat picks up, a sudden anxiety joining the whirlwind of exasperation and discontent that has come from this situation. Is it supposed to hurt this much? The remnants of the need to satisfy yourself are still present, so you try again.
Making it back to your apartment had been a relief this evening, as all day you had been battling a relentless urge down below. You’re not too proud to admit that your… situation… had been a direct result of spending the day with Anakin, a good friend of yours who needed help finding a data entry in the corner of the Temple library. The entry supposedly had something to do with a cloaking mechanism for battleships, and when you had asked why he needed it when the Republic already had cloaking mechanisms, he mentioned that he was trying to translate the same technique to his own personal starship. No battlecraft as small as his has that ability, and with a ship as fast as his, it would give him a huge advantage on the battlefield. 
You could listen to him talk about it all day.
You virtually had, as the data entry was just one small piece of paper-- a piece of scrap blueprint scrawled on a fragile, worried edge of some larger text, worn with time. You spent hours searching all over for it. Once you had finally dug it out of a dusty box in the deepest corner of the library, Anakin had lifted you into the air effortlessly, swinging you around as he hugged you and laughed.
You had walked home with a damp spot in your underwear, an undeniable throb that needed to be relieved. 
He had no idea. No idea that his hands shot sparks up your spine as they closed around your waist. That his laugh turned your blood to lava, and his beautiful, smiling face made your heart skip a beat. He had no idea that he is the cause of your desperation, the reason you are torturing yourself by dangling an unknown pleasure before your face, knowing you can’t have it. 
You manage to sink your second finger in a little, but the sting is too much, and you have to pull them both out.
Broken.
The door to your apartment suddenly swings open, and you throw your sheets over your bare legs in a panic. Your eyes find the clock next to your bed-- Shit. You’d lost track of the time. 
The sound of those boots are unmistakable, and you find that praying you’re wrong is pointless when he calls out your name. 
“Y/n--?” Anakin rounds the corner to peer into your room, features lighting up when he finally finds you. Curious eyes roam over your figure, wondering why you’re in bed when it was barely evening. “Are you feeling okay?”
Your cheeks flame with heat, and you can’t find the words to explain yourself out of this situation. Mentally, you’re beating yourself up for losing track of time, especially since you knew Anakin was coming over tonight. While searching for the data log, you mentioned you had always wanted to try his favorite childhood drink-- ruby bliels-- and he promised he’d treat you tonight after you found the blueprint. It was his thank you gift to you, but now you needed to find a way to get him out of your apartment before he realized what was going on.
Your mouth hangs open like a gaping fish, and you know it’s too late. Anakin’s brain is as fast as his superhuman reflexes, and you can see the gears click into place as his eyes flit from your red cheeks, to the messy covers strewn over your legs, to the crumpled panties lying discarded on the floor. Your hand is even still frozen between your legs, your activities becoming clear as he senses the remnants of pleasure and disappointment still hanging around the room. 
“Oh…” is all he says, looking lost for a moment. You expect him to apologize and turn away, run out of the apartment and then never speak to you again. You wouldn’t blame him. Finding a friend in this position can never be a comfortable experience.
Instead a slow smirk crawls onto his face, and he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed. “You need some help with that?”
You should have known. The smug little bastard-- of course he’d find this amusing. Your face grows impossibly redder, and you wish a black hole would just open beneath you already and swallow you up. Anakin finds your humiliation endearing, and laughs good-naturedly. 
“Alright, okay, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you to it,” he slinks out of the doorway, crooking his finger in the air to close the door after him. “I’ll be in the kitchen setting up for the bliels when you’re done--”
“Wait!”
You’re just as shocked as he is at the words that leave your mouth. He freezes in place, the door still open a crack. There’s too many thoughts running through your head right now, but the one that stands out the most has you pulling your hand away from your center, sitting up in bed so you can address him clearly. 
You never thought you’d be able to speak these words to him. For so long, you had wanted him in every way possible. But he’s a Jedi, unable to form attachments, and more than that-- a friend. A very good friend. And breaching the topic that you know you both feel for each other had the potential to ruin it all. 
But the minute he had opened that door, still dressed in that black leather armor, hair perfectly curled and messy, so tall and strong and devilishly handsome leaning against your doorframe-- he was beautiful, and you’d be a fool not to take advantage of his offering. Even if it might have been a joke. 
You had a sneaking suspicion it wasn’t. 
“I… I do need help.”
There. You said it. And you’re pretty certain the only reason you could force the words past your lips is because his back is still facing you. But then he opens the door again, turns to meet your eyes, and cocks his head.
“Really?”
You’re not sure how to feel about the concern on his face. You guess it’s better than him being disgusted, or awkward, or uncomfortable. And it’s not an outright rejection. That realization gives you the push you need to explain yourself.
“I think there’s something wrong with me.”
Now he looks concerned. Walking a few steps into the room, he stops by the edge of your bed and folds his arms across his chest. He’s studying every inch of you, reaching into the force to try and gauge the nature of your words. “What do you mean?”
He’s standing so close now, you can see the blue of his eyes and the wrinkle between his furrowed brows. It does nothing to calm your sizzling nerves. However, you’re concrete on your desires now. While you would have liked to confess your feelings for him in a more… romantic way, the intensity of your need for him in this very moment overshadows rational thought. Besides, it’s not like this is a declaration of love. That could always come later. For right now, you need his help, and you’re certain that you can trust him not to make fun of you or shame you for trying in if he declines.
“I can’t…” you take a deep breath, staring at your hands in your lap. “I can’t make myself feel good.”
Your voice is so quiet, embarrassed and ashamed, but he catches the yearning under it all. His face smooths, comforted by the fact that you’re not injured or dying in some way. Deep down, something sparks alive in his veins. 
That’s the issue? Well… it’s definitely something he can help you with.
“Hmm.” His face is thoughtful as he scans your position. His hand gestures vaguely down your body. “Do you want to show me what you’re doing?”
Your blood freezes at his request. For some reason, it didn’t cross your mind how asking for his help would require him to see you… naked. 
“If you’re too embarrassed, we can just--”
You cut off his words by throwing the blanket off. There, like ripping off a bandaid. His eyes drink in the exposed skin of your legs, and although they’re closed and he can’t be seeing much more than he’s already seen before, they darken. A small twitch of his fingers, and the door clicks shut behind him. 
He takes a seat on the side of the bed, next to your legs, and rests his metal hand on your knee. Your heart beats like a hummingbird's wings at the sudden proximity, and the nerves pile up again at the thought of what’s going to happen.
“Wait-- um… actually, can you come here?” 
You reach out to take his metal hand from your knee, and pull him up the bed so that he’s hovering over you. He’s still sitting, the upper half of his body twisted toward you, caging you in with a hand on either side of you. He’s smiling softly, and his eyes twinkle with something fond.
He doesn’t need to ask to know that you’re nervous. The rigidity in your muscles, the flightyness of your eyes, the hammer of your heart-- he can feel it all, and he wants nothing more than to quell your fears. So he lifts an arm to cup your face in his large hand, smoothing a thumb over your cheekbone in a silent request for you to look at him.
Once you muster up the courage to meet his eyes, his smile grows, and he says something that steals your breath.
“Can I kiss you?”
Oh, how long you’ve wanted him to say those words to you. Countless nights, you’d run them through your head, imagining all the scenarios in which it could happen. Certainly, this was not one of them, but you definitely aren’t going to complain.
You don’t trust yourself to speak, so you give him a nod, and lean forward a fraction in invitation. Your veins sing with anticipation, warmth spreading from your cheeks to every small nook and cranny of your body as he angles your face up toward his. Your eyes flutter close, and he leans down, and--
Bliss.
His lips are warm against yours, soft, applying the gentlest of pressures. You always thought he’d be a good kisser-- he was experienced, and he’d hinted at some of his more scandalous escapades a couple times in passing conversation. You’d asked him before, how he could do that when Jedi aren’t allowed to form attachments, which resulted in him going into a full lecture on how non-attachment didn’t translate to abstinence being “The Jedi Way”, even if it was supported within the Order. Really, it sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than anything, until he fell on the defensive position that he was almost certain Obi-Wan had done stuff as well.
Which-- great. Now you realized you were less experienced than even two Jedi. 
These thoughts are snuffed out like candles, one by one, as Anakin kisses you. In fact, your whole mind goes blank, a wave washing over all of your worries away and dragging them out to sea. You’re drifting on that wave, drowning in the heady feel of him, the warm taste of him. His slow inhale reminds you to breathe as he moves his lips against yours languidly. It’s heaven, the way he’s yours for just this moment. He might not think anything of this kiss, but to you, it’s like your deepest fantasies are coming true. With each moment that passes where he tilts his head and closes his lips over yours, you can pretend that he is yours, completely and unconditionally.
Eventually he pulls back, eyes fluttering open, and you realize you’re still lost at sea.  
“Good?” his voice is low and raspy as his gaze bores into yours. You wonder if he knows how intense his eyes can be sometimes. 
“Yes.”
He presses another quick kiss to your lips, your heart spasming at the act, before he trails kisses down your jaw, tasting the skin of your neck. Your breath picks up again, hands finding his curls as you gasp at the feeling. His teeth skim over the junction of your neck and shoulder, and he presses a kiss to your throbbing pulse. He means for the kisses to be distracting, soothing, so that you’ll be more comfortable with him, and he thinks it’s working until a faint moan leaves your mouth.
So it’s really working.
Anakin’s eyes flick up to yours, and you can feel the smirk against your skin. Embarrassment crashes down on you again but Anakin repeats the motion, nipping at your skin and then smoothing his tongue over the mark, sucking gently to try to elicit another reaction. You gift him one against your will, and suddenly he’s got lava pouring into his veins.
You’re so lost in the feeling of his mouth on you that you don’t even realize his warm hand has travelled from your face, down the middle of your body, gripping onto the pliant flesh of your thigh and pulling you toward him. You let him, rolling your body into him to try and relieve that reappearing ache in your center. 
It’s the same feeling that had built up all day, and it’s returned with a vengeance. You can feel the wetness seep out, slicking your thighs up. Your clit throbs and your pussy clenches around nothing, begging for something to satisfy the ache. You rub your thighs together to help, but Anakin slides a hand to the inside of your thigh and coaxes your legs apart. Any embarrassment you felt before has been beat out by a yearning for his touch, the need to have his fingers on you, inside you--
“Show me how you’ve been doing it,” Anakin mumbles into your neck.
You open your eyes, pulled up from the haze of pleasure he’d submerged you in. Your hand only shakes slightly as you release his hair and bring it back to your skin. He pulls back a few inches to watch, the heat of his body so close to yours causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. 
His eyes hone in on your hand, following its descent to your warm center. You still can’t wrap your head around the fact that someone is seeing you like this, but now your veins sing with a satisfied realization that he’s the one seeing you like this. He’s the only one who ever has. And he seems to like what he’s seeing.
You don’t miss the way he inhales, the way his teeth capture a sliver of his bottom lip as your fingers finally reach your heat. You begin to do what you’ve always done-- rub your fingers back and forth over your nub, working that pleasure from it.
It feels good, different than what it felt like when you were alone. You’re sure his eyes on you, the proximity, his mere presence has something to do with that. You can still taste him on your lips and you close your eyes, licking them to relive the kiss. You focus on the warmth of his body, the dip of the bed where his arm is planted beside you, the weight of his other hand still holding your thigh open, the scent of his black leather and spice of his shampoo. It definitely feels better when he’s here, the knowledge of him watching adding to your excitement.
But still, you can only build yourself up to a certain point. The pleasure plateaus, and soon you begin to feel awkward at the fact that nothing is happening. It’s not enough to make you moan, or move, or show any reaction really. Your hand stills, and you look at him uncertainly.
Anakin blinks and brings his eyes back up. “Have you tried fingering yourself?”
You almost choke. You’re not sure why his blunt nature surprises you anymore. 
He’s looking at you curiously, completely serious, waiting for an answer. So you clear your throat and slide your finger down to your entrance, pushing in.
It goes in easier than before, and there’s no sting. But you don’t even have to move to know you’re literally going to get nothing out of it, and trying is useless.
“This is what I’m talking about,” you tell him. “It doesn’t feel like anything. And when I try two, it hurts. I think I’m broken.”
“You’re not broken,” he frowns, smoothing your hair away from your forehead and replacing it with a kiss. Your heart melts at the action that you’re sure is meant to be comforting, but only deepens your adoration of him. He sits up and you immediately miss him, although you understand he needs a better angle as he slides his hand from your thigh to the top of your pelvis. He hesitates, questioning. “Can I?”
You pull your finger out and push yourself up onto your forearms, nodding for him to go ahead. 
His touch is light as a feather as his fingertips make contact with your swollen nub. Your breath hitches in your chest, thighs immediately opening wider on their own accord to get him to increase the pressure. He watches your face as he fulfills your silent request, massaging your clit in slow, gentle circles. 
Fireworks are exploding behind your eyes, and you melt into a puddle on the bed. He’s barely even touching you, and somehow it already feels so much better than anything you’ve done to yourself. Quiet whimpers fall from your lips and the sounds make him need a steadying breath, reminding himself to go slow. Obviously, no one has ever touched you before, and he doesn’t want to do anything that makes you uncomfortable.
The sight of your head tilted back, teeth biting at your lips to quiet your sounds, fingers clutching at the bedsheets-- a very sudden, very real desire to absolutely ruin you slams into him. 
But no. That can come later.
He brings his metal hand up to your face, thumb tracing over your bottom lip and pulling it from your teeth. “You don’t have to be quiet with me,” he tells you, the ministrations on your clit with his other hand never ceasing. Instead, he picks up the pace, increasing the pressure, drinking in the sight of your hips moving against his fingers.
You’re absolutely drenched, dripping down your thighs and puddling onto the bedsheets. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this wet before, or felt this good before, and the warmth you’ve always felt is transforming into a ball of heat in your stomach. You hone into the feeling, the heat pulsing with each pass of his fingers, each wet slide of him against you--
“You have to breathe, Y/n,” Anakin chuckles, slowing his touch. You gasp in a deep breath, whining at the loss of friction, but he appeases you by slipping his fingers from your clit to your entrance. He doesn’t push in-- instead he circles his finger around it, collecting your slick, reading your every response. 
“Please, can you…” you buck your hips up, but he doesn’t allow his finger to slide in until you finish your sentence. “Can you put it in?”
He can’t keep the tiny, darkly satisfied smile off his face. He’s always had fantasies of you like this, squirming beneath him and begging for his touch. He basks in the fulfilled wish of his, drinking in every second so he can remember it for later. Meanwhile, his finger massages your hole, dipping in with just the tip before pulling back out. 
“Fuck,” you hiss, once again surprised at your own reaction. Your head is far past the point of clouding with lust, and now you’re dizzy with pleasure and the need to just have him inside of you already. “Anakin, please.”
“Patience,” he answers teasingly, although he does mean it. You can’t rush these things. And… he does have to admit that he loves seeing you so desperate and messy for him. Your neediness has him strain against his own pants, but he pushes that aside. For now, another dip of his finger into your throbbing pussy has you arch off the bed, urging him deeper, and it’s heaven to witness.
He didn’t want to go all in just yet, but you’re gushing around his finger and taking it so well. So he lets you have it, sinking his finger all the way into you. You feel him go deeper and deeper, the never-ending length of his finger a stark contrast to your shorter ones. He’s reaching places you were never able to, and even the slide of him inside you elicits a deep, warm pleasure that spreads to the tips of your fingers.
He keeps his finger all the way inside for a moment, still as he feels your walls clench around him. Once he’s sure you’re all good, he begins pressing into you with shallow thrusts, thumb returning to your clit and rubbing in time with each push of his finger.
Curses spill from your lips, and Anakin can’t help himself. He leans down over you and captures them in his mouth, swallowing your cries of pleasure. The kiss is wet, dirty, and the muffled sounds of your moans combat the indecent slick and slide below. Soon, another finger is nudging at your opening, and you press yourself deeper into his lips in anticipation of that painful sting.
It doesn’t come.
Instead, his finger slides in a couple inches and he keeps both of them there, letting you adjust as his thumb rolls over your clit. You had never been able to use two fingers before, and your head goes fuzzy as he pushes them deeper. Your walls stretch around him pleasantly, accepting the welcome intrusion as he reaches deep inside you.
How is it fair that he can make you feel so much better than you can make yourself? It doesn’t seem right in the whole grand scheme of things, but you decide not to question it as his fingers suddenly curl inside you, searching. It feels odd, and he pulls back from your lips to concentrate for a second until-- there. Found it.
You almost knock your head into his as you shoot up, a startled cry leaving your lips as your vision whites with pleasure. Your fingers claw at his back, meeting the leather that still sits on his shoulders, and scrabbling over the smooth material for purchase. Anakin laughs at your reaction, easing you into a more comfortable position as he holds you against him with his metal arm behind your back.
You can’t find it in you to care that he’s laughing, not as long as he keeps rolling the pads of his fingers into you like this. His wrist curls, applying a harder pressure as he rubs against that spot, and your head falls back, hips pushing forward, the lewdest sounds you’ve ever heard leaving your mouth. 
“You like that,” he notes, proud smile ghosting over your lips. He kisses the corner of your mouth quick and sweet, then asks, “Is it better when I go slow or fast?”
“Both,” you gasp. “Either. All of it. Oh my--”
“Soft or hard?”
“Anakin--”
Your brain is unable to focus on much else other than the feel of his fingers coaxing that blissful heat from your center. He plays around with paces and pressures, but everything feels good, it feels great, it feels amazing, it feels euphoric. Before long, your legs are shaking and a weird feeling comes over you, and you’re crying out,
“What’s happening?”
Anakin pauses, his entire body stilling as he meets your eyes. You’re completely serious, that much he can tell by the vulnerability in your eyes. He frowns, unbelieving at this revelation.
“Why’d you stop?”
“Have you ever had an orgasm?”
You whine and shift your hips into his hand, trying to get him to keep making you feel good. If this wasn’t your first time being with someone else, Anakin would have held your hip still and forced you to talk to him no matter how much you begged and pleaded. But, it was your first time with someone else, so he was deciding to be nice. He soothes your craving, resuming his movements but at a much slower pace. A pleased sigh from you fills the silence of him waiting expectantly for your answer.
“Um..” you swallow, hips meeting his hand with every thrust. “I don’t think so. No. Nothing’s ever felt… like… this…”
It’s like a sneeze, except much, much better. The way his fingers prod into you, slick with your arousal, the tips brushing and massaging against that spot that have you careening into his body. You would have toppled over on top of him if he wasn’t so strong and rooted to the bed. He holds your shivering body against his chest with his metal arm, lips marking their way around your chin and jaw as your head falls back in ecstasy. 
He’s immensely turned on, that much is obvious from the painful straining in his pants. But it’s easy to ignore, knowing now that you’ve never fallen off that brink of pleasure before. He’s curious about it, oddly saddened by the fact, and wants nothing more than to show you the absolute highs he could help you reach. So he focuses back in on rubbing your clit with his thumb, fucking you deeply on his fingers. He allows you to clutch at his back and bury your hands in his hair, moaning in abandon.
Anakin shares you pleasure as the ball in your stomach unleashes, a blissful warmth crashing over you and invading your every cell. For a moment, your body isn’t yours-- it convulses and clenches around Anakin’s fingers, your cries bounce off the walls, your eyes squeeze closed. You hope the hands twisted into his hair don’t hurt him because you physically can’t let go as you ride that pleasure-filled haze, the feeling in your limbs abandoning you to be replaced with something much stronger. 
For a while, the only sounds in the room are your gasps of air and the blood rushing through your ears. Anakin waits until your muscles relax, and then he slides his fingers out of you, smoothing his hand around your waist to join his other behind your back. He lays you down into the pillows again, burying his face in your neck as you struggle to get your legs to stop shaking.
“Y/n,” he mouths a line up your neck. “You there?”
“Mhm,” you gulp, the shock of that intense, pleasurable feeling just beginning to fade.
He pressed his deep chuckle into the spot right under your ear. “Good. I thought I lost you for a moment.”
If you were in your right state of mind, you would have laughed at his teasing. Now, all you can do is cup his face lazily in your boneless hands, pulling his face up so that you can look at him. His cheeks are flushed the slightest pink, eyes dark and sparkling, lips so red and full and inviting…
You kiss him, and he’s yours for a moment longer. 
If only it could always be like this. If only this could be a daily experience, and afterwards you could take care of him, and you could feel that wonderful euphoria with him at the same time. If only he wouldn’t have to pull away soon, untangle himself from your still-shaking limbs, brush off what just happened, and be on his way. If only he could be yours forever.
All of this, you try to tell him through the kiss. Your lips are hot, sliding over with a wanton need. He feels your yearning, and he can tell it’s a different kind than earlier. You move to deepen the kiss, but he pulls away.
“I know what you’re thinking,” his low voice murmurs, and now he doesn’t look so playful. In fact, he looks very serious, and the rumble of his words causes your stomach to drop. “You should know, Y/n, I want you too.”
The whole room could be on fire and burning and falling to ash around you, but you wouldn’t notice. Everything pales in comparison to the flames that erupt in your heart at the sound of his words. 
“You do?”
He purses his lips, running his eyes up and down your face. You’re nervous, and hopeful, and so, so scared. And also… still shivering. Most likely due to the cold, at this point. And he’s sure the drunken affects of your orgasm are still holding sway over your mind.
“This is a conversation I think would be much better held over some ruby bliels,” he decides, and begins to unwind himself from you. You let him, that hopeful spark still searing through your veins. Before getting off the bed, he presses a kiss into your hand and then smooths over it with his thumb.
You want to say something cute or witty, but the only thing your dumb brain can come up with is, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he smiles fondly, moving toward the door. “I’ll meet you out there. Feel free to remain pantsless.”
This has you rolling your eyes, laughing lightly as you fall back against the pillows. Don’t tempt me.
The prospect of a future with Anakin is at the forefront of your brain, blood pumping thick as molasses as you struggle to convince yourself this is reality. He shuts the door behind him as you leave, and you roll onto your stomach to scream into the pillow. 
This was a dream come true.
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24-guy · 3 years
Text
I spent 2 hours on writing notes from the prison podcast stream.
Now I don’t know what to do with them, so I’m putting them here. 
No need to read them, there is just some interesting stuff I noticed, things like tones and how many times somethings are brought up. 
if you do, though, I apologize  for spelling errors. 
start stream
techno "did the calculations" on how long it would take to mine obsidian with the amount of mining fatigue they had. we knoe this is true.
dream has been writing, it is the only thing hes been able to do with the limited items he has. its his "diary"
techno teases over fanfics on wattpad
"the only thing ive written is my diary" do the revive books not count, then? or what is in the revive books that isnt writing?
techno focuses on that nobody is watching - dream doesnt comment on it - dream doesnt know about the voices?
techno is supposed to break dream out, but he hasnt got many ideas "ill get to it later"
techno enjoys prison - sees it as a vacation
techno has an optimistic outlook.
go with the flow
dream sees harming himself as exhillerating techno disaprooves
dream tells techno quackity has been torturing him everyday. techno is only surprised by the every day part
dream mentions the revive book techno remembers being told about that asks "yeah you can bring people back from the dead. yeah so how do you do that" - curious tone, seems genuinely interested for innocent meanings dream responds " i have.. the knowledge and then i get a book and then i burn it" - hesitant at first, then vague but seemingly honest reponse
techno asks what the knowledge is, incantation/password/expelliarmus dream says "something like that" slowly, then quickly says he doesnt know and that he "doesnt know how schlatt had it" - going away from the topic original book - there are more than one it is a book is what youre saying - t well... i mean, it was a book that i memorised and that now i can recreate - d techno tries again to get the knowledge he wants to revive people dream doesnt want to tell techno because he wouldnt be the only one who knew techno tries to bargain saying that if dream died, techno coulld bring him bacl dream knows they wont kill him because he can revive people
dream says no, techno says "you forgot how to write it down didnt you dream says he didnt, that he did it recently, techno repeats again that dream forgot brings up wattpad again. dream says he wrote it down for tommy. he doesnt mention wilbur to techno. bring up the homeless situaation prison is dreams house cell is boiling apparently makes a joke about cali rent prices
nobody visited the cell "we stopped anarcy" "when we get out of here" no though ahead going into this situation (techno) "just as far as i need to" dream doesnt know what techno means by stream schedule, techno jokes about dream's lack of schedual techno usually trains always looking for new combat, reasearching constant arms race no idea when a government will arise or opressing people is always prepared has a good amount of gear he also plays golf somewhere offers a game with dream no way to describe it somewhere farther than his house
dream asks about tommy techno hasnt seen him canonically, only knows he stole acouple months ago - as far as he tells dream
dream asks about carl carl is doing well
dream asks about the family its doing good, apparently, new foxes, got steve who will break him out dream writes about steve "i will write evrrything down because its hard to remember" another fanfic joke
dream asks whos feeding them they feed themselves its probably fine
milld break for 4 wall break
gist or jist
prison podcast offers, agrees that is all this is
technical difficulties
podcast bros
eating potato
dream offers his thoughts on what would happen of he tried to revive somebody who is alive two technoblades human meat sheild
dream wants to try no death first what could go wrong nothing else to do
techno house is man vs nature conflict floor has ants floof brings ants spilled pet food dream has a revivebook techno tries to read it first hit with book a small wait throw into lava DreamXD joins broke the table fixed table a god dream "cloned himsef" god looks exactly like dream feels like a question to ask earlier dream summoned dreamxd ask for wish ask for bell dream gets mad because no escape dreamxd leaves sellout timer goes off techno makes money as dream questions his life dream sits in corner hole techno aims to be annoying we count channel members for a bit
dream and techno friend bonding time?
summons dreamxd for reviving nobody dream writes this in his diary as techno rings bell tries again, it doesnt work creative mode is a known thing by mortals they know how deadly it is
warden on vacation
techno hasnt written anything he has at least 4 books in his inventory, going from the top 2nd space to the top 5th space. the fourth book is called information and is signed by dream. dream throws a potato in the lava techno asks for the revive book again, this time to see of dreamxd will come back because it is a different person summoning him dream says no
techno needs a bell to sell out for the *brand*, ritual and tradition dream put the bell in church prime no twitch primes for dream - hes a heratic (no contract) dream makes no profit dream has lots of raw potatos for 5-6 months
techno asks if dream has any friends dream says not really, they turned against him techno knows the feeling being betrayed by closest friend happens every tuesday for techno
dream mentions being visited by a few people techno asks if any tried not to torture or kill him dream says yeah like he wasnt expecting the question/(as techno put it) "he hesitated"
sapnap - didnt torture or kill him - but he said if dream got out of there, then he would - techno says hes gotta raise his standards
bad - was the best - treated dream the best - techno says hes a cult leader - dream is surprised so techno tells him about the egg - techno wasnt clear - bad hasnt viseted since 4-5 months ago - techno says even he has friends - egg was attacked - big crossover episode not clear what is going on
techno - last time they saw each other was dooms day - been a while - lot has happened - techno doesnt now whats going on currently on the server - he knows nothing - "people" tell him who died and who came back
tubbo - asks about tubbo - tubbo is chillng - snowchester named - commune - a little sus - dictator - no rushing to conclusions - tubbo has nukes - big crater - a hoby - could be meteor
ranboo - asks about ranboo - ranboo is also chilling - brings up tubo's nukes now
dream points out that techno said he didnt know anyting and then said about a new place, nukes, and a lot more dream doesnt know anything - less than techno
ranboo (again) - dream says he used to visit a while ago and then stopped coming - techno asks "ranboo used to visit?" - ranboo visited "a bit" - probably visited the most - sapnap visited - tommy visited a couple of times - bad visited - and quackity - quackity visited the most, only because hes visited daily
more potatos pog potatos
ranboo (x3) - techno asks how dream knows ranboo - "um... its just a.. long story" - techno replies sarcastically about how they dont have any time to go through it, theyre so busy with the bell - dream "i dont know him very well. he just visited a few times and that was it." - techno just repeats alright, its either bored or thinking - dream "and then i havent seen him since then so thats why i was wondering where hes been, if hes been around" - techno " ah... im not sure. i havent been around fpr like the past couple of months, honestly."
techno went on  atraining montage, played golf
dream asks about the plan to get out mining fatigue 3 doesnt mean they cant break blocks, its just approximately 370 times longer breaking obsidian takes a bit over 4 minutes math = obsidian block gone in 25.7 hours. an alarm break in the right spot break block in toilet elder guardian below the cell techno can take him if techno somehow dies dream brings him back could be out in 2 weeks havent been visited for 2 weeks nothing to lose dream has to break obsidian techno wants to end stream techno came up with idea so dream has to do it dream starts bell ringing for cheerng him on techno sounds happy that dream is doing it voices are mentioned - theyre laughing techno has perfect track of time techno is gonna annoy dream the entire time techno is a lookout there are only 4 books we only see the 4th name floof interrupts momentarily tommy killed a cat because dream liked it 300 dogs in the cell joke
channel member bell dream regrets his life again techo's plan? bell was a better investment dream has 10 bells in e chest techno doesnt techno wanted to go for more so techno could ring bell again
end of stream
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hello-yue-here · 3 years
Note
📓
THANK YOU
okay first up on the list: sukka
bear with me this is all just the background info because this is a fic i started MONTHS ago but gave up on. its a five n one fic but heres all the relevant background info:
suki and sokka met their freshman year of highschool. suki was an annoying know it all of a freshman (hello im projecting onto suki here) and hahn was the sexist jerk who say behind her. sokka was hahns best friend and followed him around like a little puppy. suki knew that sokka was just repeating everything hahn told him ab women but sokka took it and ran with it to look cool for his friends.
naturally, suki and sokka do not get along. suki constantly calls out hahn for his bullshit, sokka defends him, and sokka and suki get into fights while hahn sits back and watches. its even worse because suki and sokka see each other everywhere. student council. musical rehearsal. his hockey practice is right across the street from her job. they are on the same coed soccer and track teams. they have the same classes. they literally are always around each other.
sophomore year comes around and sokkas no longer friends with hahn. partly because his arguments w suki got him to realize he was being sexist. partly because hahns a dick. partly because hahn tried hitting on his girlfriend yue.
sokka apologizes to suki for freshman year and suki is like its fine i got too heated sometimes too and sokka was like well yeah if i were you id wanna rip my head off too dont apologize. suki and sokka are kinda sorta friends now.
junior year yue moves away and sokka is really upset about it. they broke up because they felt they were too young for long distance but it still hurt. suki along with the rest of sokkas friends (sup gaang) are there for him. suki and sokka are friends but they still arent super close yet.
OKAY NOW ONTO THE FIC ITSELF (im so sorry for long posting but i love sukka)
5&1
5 times sokka drove suki home and one time suki drove him
1st ride: sokka offers to drive suki home from a club meeting after overhearing her talking to toph about how her cars in the shop and her mom cant get her until an hour after the meeting ends. she accepts and they drive together. theyve hung out before in group hangs n stuff but theyve never rlly been just the two of them. its nice. sokkas a fast talker and gets very animated and invested in their conversations. they dont wanna stop talking so they just keep driving around town, never too far away from sukis house, for an hour before finally dropping her off.
2nd ride: similar story as before. suki needs a ride home and sokka offers. theyre convo is still very fun and interesting but a lot of the trip this time is actually them just singing songs in the car together and just jamming out. sokka tells suki that her voice is rlly good. suki never heard sokka sing before because he only did tech for shows, but hes not half bad himself. will suki start imagining singing duet with him after this ride? no absolutely not. will sokka? yes absolutely. (jk they both think ab it sukis just in denial)
3rd ride: at this point suki has stopped driving her own car to school and instead has her mom drop her off. her mom doesnt mind, she likes getting to talk to her daughter in the morning (and she knows damn well shes got a crush on that boy who drives her home) and sokka just asks her if she needs a ride, he doesnt wait for her to ask him first anymore. this talk is fun but more serious. sokka keeps asking about suki and her identity as bisexual. suki thinks hes gonna be weird about it but then during a lul in conversation he admits that he thinks hes bi too. lots of comfort. yes ik im projecting onto suki in this fic but this car ride wouldve been MAJOR projecting onto sokka time ayoooo.
4th ride: suki is at a party and hahn is there and sokka isnt and suki is getting pissed off by hahn and wants to leave but she cant drive herself home. she calls sokka and he comes to get her even though its way too late. shes a little drunk still and tells sokka ab hahn being a dick. sokka wants to turn around and “talk to him” but suki is like shut up sokka youd lose that fight and sokka laughs and says not with u by my side to back me up. suki doesnt know if shes drunk or something still but sokka looks really good under the light of the streetlamps they drive past.
5th ride: suki has taken it upon herself to refer to sokka as her chauffeur since he drives her everywhere now. he rolls his eyes and grumbles about it but he always assures her that he doesnt care and that he likes their car rides together. its towards the end of the year and prom is coming up and neither of them have a date. sokka hatches the perfect plan and instead of walking with suki to his car from the school, he tells her to meet him there instead because he has to talk yo a teacher abouy something (lies he got out of class early cuz mr piandao is the goat and sokka needs to set up). when suki gets to his car hes got a whole promposal set up and is holding a sign that says “i know im an excellent driver, but lets get a real chauffeur for once. prom?” and of course she says yes.
+1
suki didnt want a chauffeur for prom. instead she offered to drive the two of them there instead. sokka keeps making jokes about how hes terrified to be in a car with her because of how much katara has complained about sukis driving (i drive fast so suki drives fast deal with it) theyre on their way back from a prom after party and suki is taking sokka home. its quiet and peaceful but sokka wont stop staring at her. “what” she asks “nothing. youre just... really.. pretty. i guess.” hes so awkward. poor kid is so flustered but suki likes it. “yeah ur not to bad urself” “i really like you suki” “i like me too” “im serious” “i know sokka” “so what do you think?” she can see hes nervous now “i thought you were supposed to be smart. im surprised you didnt notice how much u like you too.” “wait really?” his eyes light up “of course dumby. i literally stopped driving to school as an excuse to hang out with you more” smoocie smoocie ensues.
badda bing badda boom: sukka fic.
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comicteaparty · 5 years
Text
February 25th-March 3rd, 2019 CTP Archive
The archive for the Comic Tea Party week long chat that occurred from February 25th, 2019 to March 3rd, 2019.  The chat focused on AntiBunny: The Gritty City Stories by Vincent Davis aka Vinnie D.
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Chat:
RebelVampire
COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB START!
Hello and welcome everyone to Comic Tea Party’s Week Long Book Club~! This week we’ll be focusing on AntiBunny: The Gritty City Stories by Vincent Davis aka Vinnie D.~! (http://AntiBunny.com/)
You are free to read and comment about the comic all week at your own pace, so stop on by whenever it suits your schedule! Remember, though, that while we allow constructive criticism, our focus is to have fun and appreciate the comic. Below you will find four questions to get you started on the discussion. However, a new question will be posted and pinned everyday (between 12:01AM and 6AM PST), so keep checking back for more! You have until March 3rd to tell us all your wonderful thoughts! With that established, let’s get going on the reading and the chatting!
QUESTION 1. What has been your favorite scene in the comic so far? What specifically did you like about it?
QUESTION 2. At the moment, who is your favorite character? What about that character earns them this favor?
QUESTION 3. Who or what do you think “Dark Pooky” is? Why does “Dark Pooky” refer to Pooky as Ptolemy and what does the supposed missing gap of 50 years have to do with it? What do you think “Dark Pooky” has intended for Pooky?
QUESTION 4. What is the mysterious glow that surrounds Penny that only Agent Wesson and Agent Smith/Ed can see? Unrelatedly, do you think Penny will fix the robot she found? How will either of these scenarios affect her and the other characters’ futures?
AntiBunny
Hi everyone. I'm the author of AntiBunny. I'll just be quietly reading here and gathering feedback. I really appreciate this opportunity to hear some in depth thoughts on my work, and as always I invite you to draw your own conclusions.
Delphina
Are there navigation arrows somewhere I'm not seeing?
RebelVampire
theyre on the right side bar
Delphina
Ahhh, thank you
RebelVampire
QUESTION 5. What do you think happened in Pandora’s past that made her so well-known but ultimately got her killed by Agent Wesson? Do you believe Mulligan will get his revenge at the end of the day?
RebelVampire
1) im picking two scenes cause i can and nobody can stop me. the first scene i really liked was the warehouse confrontation with the bomb. i liked pooky both got some answers but also basically went "nope im out yo." the combination worked for me and made it both humorous and narratively satisfying. the other scene i liked was the scene where hannibal is waiting in the hospital and just casually talking to mulligan without realizing who he is. then mulligan reveals himself in the most crass way possible. again, i just like the combination. its funny, but narratively satisfying since i kept wondering when wed get to see penelope's dad ever since he was mentioned. 2) penelope. Idk. theres just something i really like about penelope. She's go this good sense of optimism and faith, but shes not overbearing or crazy. And even if she's not some rebellious sleuth or fighter or anything, the comic shows that her words have the power to change things just as much the fighting and other elements. 3) Well given a scene that was part of nailbat's story, Pooky is pretty obviously involved with enchanted forest. I imagine some boss type figure. And Pooky might be some prized experiment somehow? like the next step in bunny evolution or something like that. but maybe pooky had like the longest incubation period known to all sapient kind. As for what dark pooky intends, more evil science. I mean you don't get to be called dark pooky if you do the good science.
4) I'm not sure I have good theories about the glow. Like, maybe again, another part of dark pooky science somehow. Like a desire mutation that is a signal for the next stage of evolution. As for the robot, yes, i think penny will. and I'm really looking forward to it considering who that robot is. I think it's really going to be an emotional rollercoaster for everyone. 5) well given superheroing is a thing in this world, probably that or something. maybe not superheros but like a step down. like neighborhood watch on steroids. or maybe a group of detectives. i think pandora discovered something she shouldnt have though, which put her at odds with agent wesson. as for mulligan's revenge, nah i highly doubt it. more just because i think someone is going to get to agent wesson long before he does. and narratively speaking, i think mulligan's arc will be more about putting his kids first and revenge second.
RebelVampire
QUESTION 6. Do you believe that Pooky will once again become a successful reporter? What trouble might Pooky’s pursuit of this cause? Alternatively, what good might come of it?
RebelVampire
QUESTION 7. Who do you think Agent Wesson works for? Also, what do you think happened to Agent Wesson after the bridge explosion, and what consequences will that have for the story?
RebelVampire
6) I don't think Pooky is gonna rekindle that journalist career. Mostly because if Pooky lives to see the end of this story I will be very surprised. However, I think Pooky's pursuit will change the world regardless and force humans and rabbits alike to confront ugly truths about themselves and the world theyve created. Cause that seems to be a heavy theme and Pooky has shown to know how to work the media to drive that message home. 7) Enchanted Forest. And Agent Wesson is probably alive and probably plotting some hardcore revenge against Pooky. Agent Wesson will also bide time and wait until we've basically forgotten the character and then blamo, everything is ruined, sad times are had, etc. etc. etc. It will not be a good time
RebelVampire
QUESTION 8. Do you think Penelope will manage to testify against Mr. Huge, or will she inevitably be silenced by the many obstacles in her way? In the meantime, what do you think Auntie Fae is up to? How will this affect Penelope?
RebelVampire
QUESTION 9. Do you think that the characters will be able to change Gritty City and/or human-rabbit relations for the better by the end of the comic? Of the characters, who do you think has the highest chance of doing so and why?
RebelVampire
8) I think Penelope will manage. Shes the determined sort who will probably persevere. Although I also feel that her testimony wont matter and that inevitably the bad guy will win. As for Auntie Fae, I'm not sure besides being racist. Although I actually think she has a bigger agenda then the characters realize quite yet. In the sense that theyll think she just wants to get rid of rabbits when shes up to bigger things. like helping out evil scientists or something. 9) I think they'll change relationships for the better but not by much. Change is a slow, slow process and the more you try to force it, the less it usually works. But that's okay and I think whatll maatter is just changing the hearts of even a few ppl. Like what happened with Nailbat because I found Nailbat's story was really strong because of that aspect. Even though Nailbat was just one person, he changed some people lives and also had his life changed. If I had to pick someone who would actually instigate change, then Penelope. Cause Penelope is a badass with words insofar and really seems to leave an impact on all the people she interacts with.
snuffysam
i haven't been able to get through the archive yet, but right now my favorite scene is when we first see penelope street preaching. i don't know why, but I like the idea of this stalking amy-rose-type turning out to be something completely different
my favorite character so far is juju. gets introduced as a witch, and immediately gets herself trapped in a doll. love her.
RebelVampire
QUESTION 10. What are you most looking forward to in the comic? Also, do you have any final thoughts to share overall?
RebelVampire
10) a lot of stuff. like im really looking forward to the robot being fixed, to pooky exploring the dark pooky stuff more, seeing penelope more, and so forth. theres a lot of really great threads that are building up and id love to see them start paying off and how cause im sure itll be epic! in general, while it took me a bit to get into it, i really enjoyed the comic once i did and the story started to show its hidden depths.
Delphina
I just want to pop in and say that I did make it partially through the archive this week, but probably won't have time to finish, and thought Penelope was a very cute character. I paged through a bit of the later pages too and loved seeing how the art/craftmanship progressed.
Delphina
((I don't know what the policy is on critique in these segments, so I will definitely strike this from the record if it's not appropriate @RebelVampire , but when the story started alternating between the Pooky storyline and the Nailbat storyline every other page is when I started to lose focus and eventually dropped off reading because it was too confusing to keep track of the story. I think these storylines would benefit from not being mixed in the archives. I definitely know the challenge of spending time fixing old stuff versus using that time to move forward, but if you decided to migrate the story to a PHP-based solution in the future instead of static HTML, archive curation would be a factor I'd strongly recommend considering.))
RebelVampire
@Delphina critiques are allowed as long as theyre constructive, respectful, and dont become the predominant topic of the conversation. so in my book this one is fine.
RebelVampire
COMIC TEA PARTY- WEEK LONG BOOK CLUB END!
Thank you everyone so much for reading and chatting about AntiBunny: The Gritty City Stories this week! Please also give a special thank you to Vincent Davis aka Vinnie D. for volunteering the comic and creating it! If you liked AntiBunny: The Gritty City Stories, make sure to continue to support it via some of the links below!
Read and Comment: http://AntiBunny.com/
Vincent Davis’ Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/AntiBunny
Vincent Davis’ Ko-Fi: https://ko-fi.com/U6U7CGJG
Vincent Davis’ Twitter: https://twitter.com/AntiBunny
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hellaintthatbad · 7 years
Text
Riverdale fanfic 1 - kevin & joaquin (with @fangirly-freak)
>Kevin, all well-behaved, typical suburban boy, straight a’s, and then the serpent, bad boy how theyre written, and yet theyre together and I bet, if there should be a showdown of some kind, joaquin will try to protect kevin, to keep him away from the shit hes getting being a serpent, even though he doesn’t realize hes protecting him, and also im betting that kevin wants some distance at first, but he cant keep it up for long and runs to joaquin and kisses him as if the world is ending. And that will happen in that bar where the serpents hang around, right in front of all the other men and when anybody says anything against them jugheads dad will personally beat them up because he is a good soul.<
 Kevin ran faster than he ever did before, his throat burned and his legs became wobbly, threatening to give up. But Kevin didn’t pay attention to his body’s protests, the only thing on his mind was a raven-haired boy, the boy that was from another world and yet from so close, being so close to him yet being unrecognized.
Kevin took a sharp 90° turn, his shoes slid on the wet concrete but he didn’t fall and just kept running. Jughead’s words still echoed through his head. His friend asked Archie if he could sleep over a few nights, his dad having a serpent thing and didn’t want him to follow him, his ‘detective of a son shouldn’t be there for his own life’s sake’. Thankfully Archie asked when the whole ordeal would take place so Kevin hadn’t been caught eavesdropping. And thankfully Jughead trusted Archie enough to tell him.
But not so thankfully, Kevin’s dad didn’t fall asleep fast enough. The sheriff was always tired when he came home from work and usually fell asleep after dinner, but tonight he wanted to tell his son about his last case. In the end, Kevin said he had homework to do and left, only to sit on top of the stairs and wait. Soon his father’s breath slowed and the boy sneaked down, a first-aid packet and another jacket on his hands. He fingered around the holster, freeing the gun and wrapping it in jacket. Then, quietly, but still as fast as possible, he left his house and turned for the old warehouse.
Joaquin told him where this warehouse was, they used it as a place to be when they wanted to be alone. Okay, let’s be honest, when they wanted to make out without anybody interrupting them.
And while the authors described stuff so the reader knows stuff that’s important for the story, Kevin has reached said warehouse. Several motorcycles and cars stood in front of it. And men talked in it. Their voices were only hearable due to the echo in the empty building; also the men didn’t care to lower them.
Kevin knew the architecture of the house quite well, him and Joaquin going exploring when they wanted to talk or not make out [haha yeah that happens sometimes too believe it or not] and needed something else to do with their hands. Because, you know, hormones.
The old and rusty stairs at the back didn’t look trustworthy but they didn’t even move when you climbed them up right. They led to a sort of second story, but in the middle was a huge hole, enabling a good look to the ground story. Stair cases led down, but nobody bothered to climb them up, giving Kevin a perfect hiding spot.
The men stood at two fronts, the serpents on Kevin’s left, their client on his right. Joaquin was in the back, only about 50 meters away from Kevin, and fidgeted his hands behind his back. That meant he was nervous as hell.
Suddenly one of the clients screamed in rage, Kevin hasn’t noticed their voices rising until they shouted, he was too caught up in Joaquin’s facial features. A broad-necked bodyguard tried to calm the angry man, but another slipped through his arms and went to punch F. P., almost succeeding but the serpent next to their leader hit him first, sending the suit-wearer to the ground.
With that, all hell broke loose, fists hit jaws, blood dripped, bones crashed. Men went down, many of them unconscious. In the chaos, Kevin has lost Joaquin, but then something neon green caught his gaze. That neon green was a bracelet he gave his boyfriend a few weeks ago. A snake eating a heart was printed on it. Then it vanished as a very buff and muscular man blocked the view, pulled back his fist and threw it onto the boy’s stomach. Joaquin went down with a groan.
Out of desperation, Kevin reached for the gun, stood up and shot into the air. Everybody stopped in their tracks. Their faces turned towards him and twisted as they recognized him as the sheriff’s son.
“Kill him! He gonna report! Whatcha waitin’ for?!”
Thugs went for the stairs, one of them the man that just hit Joaquin, but the boy suddenly jumped up and put his arm around his neck, trying to strangle him.
“Kevin! Run!” F.P. bellowed.
Kevin followed his order and ran to the stairs that led him up there. He heard fists hitting flesh and groans, but didn’t look back. That is, until a stone hit his head making him feel dizzy and trip over his own feet.
He expected violence as he felt a body near him and tensed up, but was even more surprised as gentle hands fiddled around the gun in his hand.
“Sweetie, hey, it’s me. Gimme the gun. Get up. Run. Please, for me.”
“No, I can’t. Can’t leave ya…”
Kevin fainted.
The next thing Kevin knew is that he’s lying on the floor, some voices speaking almost out of earshot.
“Why is he here? Did you tell him?”
“What? No. I don’t know why he’s here. He isn’t supposed to.”
“And you’re not supposed to take a broken nose for him. You should spy on the sheriff, not play the knight in shining armor for his son.”
“I didn’t want to, it just happened! I just couldn’t see him getting hurt!”
At that, Kevin stirred. His movements didn’t go unnoticed, Joaquin and F.P. rushed over to him.
“Hey... Whoa, sweetie, calm down, your head must hurt like hell.” Joaquin reached up to stroke Kevin’s cheek as he began to sit up.
“You must hurt like hell, your face looks like Spaghetti Bolognese, and not in the tasty way.”
Jughead’s father chuckled. “Two seconds back and already backfiring, you got one there.”
“I got a first-aid kit, let me clean you up.”
The two boys went over to where Kevin’s jacket was and sat down next to it.  They sat in silence as Kevin got the utensils out and started to take care of Joaquin’s wounds.
“I heard you talk.”
“Huh?”
“Joa, I heard you and F.P. talking. He said you are supposed to spy on the sheriff. Is that why you are dating me?”
“Kev, I…”
“Don’t lie to me. I want the naked truth, without excuses. Without consideration of my feelings or whatever. Just tell me.”
The young serpent sighed.
“Yeah, I mean, I… I am supposed to play your boyfriend to spy on your dad. But so much has happened since then, and F.P. still wants information needed for clients and jobs, but I… We can get information otherwise, I am… I’m confused, you know? Because you are so good and kind and I am a no-good, usele…”
Before the boy could finish, Kevin presses a piece of bandage drenched with pure alcohol into an open cut.
“Go to the hospital, that needs stitches. I can’t do that. I’m going home. And tell F.P. to go fuck himself.”
Kevin’s voice sounded so cold. The room temperature seemed to drop 15°C
“Sweetie, what…”
“Don’t call me sweetie! That’s a name a lover should use, not a spy!”
Joaquin flinched as the other boy spat those words. He tried to reach for his hand, but Kevin withdrew his hand, grabbed his things as he stood up and left quickly without another word.
  The next three weeks were hard for both of them. Kevin couldn’t concentrate at all, which had effects on his grades, his friends were worrying, but he didn’t tell them why he didn’t eat as much, sleep as much or even talk as much as he used to or why Joaquin wasn’t with him all the time like he used to, and seeing from Jughead’s behavior, his dad didn’t tell him. Kevin felt emotionally used, he wanted to hate his (former?) boyfriend, but couldn’t help to reach for his hip, where his hand had lied or almost call him, his thumb seemed to be frozen into spot right above the call button.
Joaquin wasn’t much better. He, too, didn’t watch his health and lied on his bed when F.P. didn’t need him to do whatever needed to be done. He didn’t know why exactly he behaved like this. He just had no clue what to do. Or what is body was doing while his mind wandered off. He caught his hand several times as it creeped over his mattress, looking for something, that wasn’t there. He didn’t charge his phone, afraid to get weak and call Kevin, even though the boy has made clear that he was angry with him.
Both boys vegetated through their lives, but Kevin had more people to look out for him. He didn’t lose as much weight as Joaquin. And people tried to talk to him about what happened. Joaquin had no one to talk to except for his cactus.
                        This led to Kevin’s breakdown as he sat with his friends in Pop’s diner. Veronica showed them her new haircut, it was about the length Joaquin’s hair had been when Kevin had last seen him. Veronica’s was a more female version though. Just as she turned around to show Betty how she had to straighten them, Kevin looked up from his now cold coffee. She looked so much like Joaquin mas he had shown him a tattoo on his neck.
Kevin let out a sob. Then another. Then he let out a ragged breath, murmured something about fresh air and stumbled out of the diner to the parking lots. As soon as he felt like there was enough distance between him and the diner to not be seen instantly, he vomited. But there wasn’t much to vomit, so he just gagged around air, his throat burned and his head felt way too light. He stumbled from the car he used for balance towards the diner. Someone was coming out, but Kevin didn’t recognize them before he fell face down on the ground.
Another voice, somehow common to him, called his name. The boy opened his eyes to see dark hair at shoulder length.
“Joa?” he asked with a raspy voice before wincing. His throat felt like he swallowed sour rain.
“No, I’m sorry. But Kevin, you got to get up. You got to drink. Archie’s calling your dad. We thought you were dying here.” Veronica let out a forced laugh. “And I can’t let you die on my favorite dress, can I?”
Betty came and kneeled next to him. She held a glass of water to his lips and he drank greedily. Pop came out too and handed the blonde an extra-large milk shake.
“He gonna need that. Saw his orders last few weeks. He needs the protein and sugar and whatnot.”
Kevin also drank the shake, though slower than the water, enjoying the sweet taste in contrast to the acid burn he felt before.
Just as he finished and properly sat up without help, his father’s car pulled into the parking lot. As soon as the car stood, the sheriff ran to him and kneeled down.
“Son? Son, can you hear me? How many fingers am I holding up?”
“None, dad, your hands are crashing my shoulders. I’m okay now. I’m just tired.”
His dad stood up, pulling him onto his feet and led him to the car after thanking Pop and Kevin’s friends for helping him. Pop declined the money he offered him.
When they came home, the sheriff made his son eat and take a bath before letting him sleep.
 Kevin slept until 3:40pm, having his first halfway decent sleep in weeks. He hadn’t notice how much this kind-of break up was draining him.
As he got up, he thought of what to do next. He couldn’t continue like this. He missed the warmth of Joaquin right next to him. He missed the way his kisses felt. He missed shoving his hands into the long hair when they kiss. He missed the smell of leather, hair gel and Joaquin. Even his room still smelt a bit like him, even though he hadn’t been there in a month or so.
At 5pm, Kevin was completely dressed, half a pizza was eliminated and a note was left for his dad. He had made his mind up.
 Joaquin had just finished his last job, paying a drug dealer, and now sat at the bar and sipped at some drink he didn’t even know the name of.
He thought of nothing specific as someone tapped his shoulder. He turned around and saw Kevin. Right in front of him.
“Wha…” he began but was interrupted as Kevin slapped him.
“That”, the brown haired boy said, ”was for using me! And that”, a slap on the other cheek, “was for not telling me!”
Then he brought up both his hands and gently laid them on his jaw.
“And that is for being you.”
Kevin kissed Joaquin with all he had, with all the pain and nothingness he had felt throughout the last weeks, with all the love he felt for the boy, with all the missing he had endured. And Joaquin kissed him back with as much emotion as him.
As they parted, both breathing heavy, they mustered each other, noticing the way both had lost weight and gained shadows under their eyes.
“I love you. I’m sorry we became a couple due to my wrong intentions, but I’m happy we did. I adore you so damn much. You are my pretty boy, my sweetie. And I doubt that’s gonna change in the near future.”
“You know, that’s so cheesy, if we would be closer to the heater, we would melt.” Both boys giggled before missing again.
“And by the way, I love you too.” Kevin mumbled with their lips touching. And kissed him. Which felt better than their first kiss. Better than the making out sessions. Better than the last kiss. But not as good as their next kiss. Because the kiss that is just happening will always be the best kiss. Because, well, because it’s happening.
 ~some extra F.P.-is-super-and-a-good-man-in-the-end-stuff but this isn’t necessarily part of the story~
A few days after the great becoming-a-couple-again action, Kevin came into the bar after school to pick up Joaquin for the movies. He stepped into the building and looked out for his boyfriend as someone shoved him.
“Oi, fag, stop blocking the way. You not allowed in here!”
Kevin wanted to apologize, but a familiar raven haired boy stepped to his side and slid his arm around his waist.
“Stop bothering my boyfriend, would ya?”
“Ya can’t tell me what to do! You little shit think you’re bette…”
“That’s enough!” F.P. walked down the stairs and towards them.
“Pete, if you got a problem with homosexuality, that’s okay. But it is not okay to treat someone as less worthy or disrespectful because of it! Y’all! I know some of you looked at them with disgust, but this is love! And I don’t care what’s your reason for being a homophobic little bitch, and as long as you don’t hurt them because of it, I will not care! But if you even think about it, I will give you what you deserve! And I don’t care if any of you will hate me for it, I will protect them! And if you have a problem with them kissing, tell me, not them! Let them live their lives!”
With that, he shushed the two boys out, mumbling something about late for date. Before he can close the door though, Joaquin wraps his arms around his neck, murmuring “you’re the best dad I could wish for.” before grabbing Kevin’s hand and dragging him towards the cinema.
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Last Nights Oscars Tour Bus Bit Underscored a Deep Divide
It probably seemed like a killer bit in the writers room—something David Letterman would have done, or even Andy Kaufman. Get a tour bus full of unsuspecting movie fans and tell them theyre going to get to see a special exhibit about the Oscars. Then: Surprise! After winding their way through a backstage labyrinth, theyre at the Oscars. For real! They genuflect before Denzel (as is appropriate and right), shake hands with Charlize, and host Jimmy Kimmel banters a little: Where are you from?, and so on.
The bit didnt bomb, exactly. I laughed when Kimmel stole Jennifer Anistons sunglasses to give one of the tourists; I was glad Denzel Washington mugged along with the gag. Butthen Kimmel asked one of the tourists’ names. And when she told him it was Yulree—rhymes with “jewelry”—Kimmel made it a thing. Said of her husband, “Patrick. That’s a name.”Hed made a similar crack about Best Supporting Actor winner Mahershala Alis name, asking the Moonlight co-star howhis newborn daughters name could possibly live up to something so “exotic.”
Names are convenient to make fun of, especially when youre doing crowd work, but its too easy to fall into a trap: Patricks and Amys are normal; Mahershalas and Yulrees aint. And that weirdnessmadethe tour bus bit the perfect appetizer for thenight’s grand finale, the Best Picture screwup.Both were unscripted moments, and bothperfectly crystallized thesubtextual tension of the long, long evening.
Burning Bridges With Jet Fuel
Until the tour bus gag,at least, the ceremonies had skewed decidedly towardcant-we-all-get-alongism. “Theres only one Braveheart in this room, and hes not going to unite us,” Kimmel said in his opening monologue. “Black people saved NASA and white people saved jazz. Thats what we call progress.” And later, this: “We dont discriminate against people based on what country they come from. We discriminate based on their age and weight.” These are jokes at the expense of Hollywood—a tradition at the Oscars at least since the days Johnny Carson officiated.
If youre on the money side of Hollywood (it’s show business, after all), you want the Oscars to be about artistry and emotions, not how much Meryl Streep hates Donald Trump. Otherwise you lose half your audience to The Walking Deadand NCIS: Los Angeles and anything else that’s on at the same time.
The tour-bus gagchanged that, largely because it was impossible to figure outwho the audience was and who the performers were. Was Kimmel passing these “average Americans” through the worlds most expensive celebrity zoo to gawk at the preternaturally beautiful creations and creators of popular culture? Or were the tourists themselves on display: people from flyover states whom Hollywood targets with products and occasional political tirades without really understanding who they are? Kimmels name joke didnt help. It made the tourists—and by extension, the rest of us in the audience—seem like the butt of the joke.
Hollywood has never prided itself on being in touch with the working class, even when the movies were sometimes about poverty. Hollywood was always supposed to be a thing people wanted. The money, the fame, the power: The Oscars are where we got to see the people from the movies, playing characters based on themselves. Were supposed to want to be them, or have sex with them.So when a smart writer like John Robb tweets that the ceremony was an amazing example of ultra-orthodox cultural neoliberalism that was pure jet fuel for #trumpism? I think he’s saying that to the millions of people who voted against the pop-cultural elite alliances they saw in Hillary Clintons campaign, the Oscars aren’taspirational. They’re an insult.
These movies arent about elites. Yet the cultural shifts at the core of their stories get celebrated on the coasts and denigrated in the exurbs.
Our relationship with the icons of culture has changed, refracted through our politics. At the Oscars, the people who made those movies look out of touchin their Harry Winston jewelry and blue velvet dinner jackets. When they declaim a wall on the Mexican border, or quote the Koran, it sounds nave, even insulting, to a good-sized number of people. Somehow not even movies about the emotional pain of working class Massachusetts townies or tough modern Texan cowboys shooting it out against the backdrop of economic disaster could get over that hump.
After last years #oscarssowhite debacle, it finally seemed like the Academywas honoring stories about people who often feel invisible. And make no mistake: thosemovies—about gay African Americans, beautiful millennials aspiring to fame in the arts, and African American mathematician women fighting for equal treatment—arent about elites. Yet the cultural shifts at the core of their stories get celebrated on the coasts and denigrated in the exurbs. They’re stories about people who haven’t had their stories told … but somehow they made a whole bunch of other people feel invisible, too.
Ive watched the Oscars live pretty much without failfor 35 years. I always felt like I imagine one of the tourists from the bus gag must have—I gawk at the dresses, scoff at the gaffes, track whether my assessments of the movies matches the mysterious Academys. I wished I was there.
But it turns out the view from inside the theater turns off as many people as it turns on. Sure, everyone hate-watches the Oscars. But now half of us hate the way the other half hates it, too. And the winner is: nobody.
Read more: http://ift.tt/2lqN5GU
from Last Nights Oscars Tour Bus Bit Underscored a Deep Divide
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